2010-08-05 - Part 1: The Protegé
Argama - Mess Hall A spartan facility for spartan spacerevolutionaries, the mess features long tables and steel benches bolted to the floor. Several vending machines line the galley, with crude English scrawled on them, no doubt made in Hong Kong somewhere. "HAMBURGER" and "BEER?" are popular brands. Some more private booths line wall, allowing officers who just want to come in and get a quick cup of coffee before sortying can avoid rubbing shoulders with the grunts. One booth has a small sign, reading: "Reserved for Capt. Q. Bageena & Co." SOME TIME AGO Amuro Ray returns to the Argama with as little fanfare as possible, half-hoping nobody will notice, or that they'll all just forget he was gone. SHORTLY AFTER THAT Amuro Ray leaves Captain Bright's ready room with a black eye, muttering darkly. A LITTLE BEFORE NOW Amuro Ray arrives in the Mess Hall and gets a frozen HAMBURGER from the secret freezer, then slumps into a chair and holds it over his bruised eye socket. He sighs a heavy sigh, tilting his head back and looking up at the unadorned ceiling. He is tired. He is incredibly tired. Being reduced to one's most basic atomic state, experiencing complete communion with a chunk of humanity, and then being re-constituted into your naked body can be hard on a man, and especially a Newtype as powerful as this guy. Even so, he has responsibilities he took on and neglected, promises made and abandoned. The time for making amends has to be now. Amuro procrastinates for a further five seconds, then nudges the silent Haro perched under his chair with a foot. "Hey," he says. "Go get Rachel." Step 1: The Protege. Ever since Amuro Ray had left, there had been so much that happened. It mostly involved Tessa admitting that she was scouting her for recruitment in Mithril, her first time piloting a customized Gernsback that was meant for her personal use. Tanith giving her her first kiss. Cagalli discovering the Akatsuki, and allowing her new "little sister" to use the Strike Rouge in her stead. Quattro Bajeena spending time with her in the close confines of the Hyaku Shiki's cockpit. A LITTLE AFTER A LITTLE BEFORE NOW *thunk*... "RACHEL!!" *thunk*... "RACHEL!!" *thunk* Sitting at her desk, the white-haired Rachel Miu Athha looks up from studying the manual for the aforementioned golden Mobile Suit, wearing simple loose-legged black sweatpants and her favorite Morgenroete t-shirt. She's got a finger in the ends of her hair and twirling it around her finger, rubbing it between the tip of her index finger and thumb in silent contemplation. Looking up, heading to the door, she catches the door-headbutting Haro in both arms, looking down with it. "AMURO WANTS TO SEE YOU!! AMURO WANTS TO SEE YOU!!" AND NOW Stepping into the mess hall, Rachel hasn't changed her clothes from that relaxed outfit, and she's carrying what is perhaps the Luckiest Haro Ever in both arms and loosely held to her chest, a pair of sneakers making her steps creak at the entrance to the room. It doesn't take long to find Amuro since, he's, well, the one that clearly got Bright'd. "Amuro...!!" It doesn't stop her concern. Moving quickly and making long, graceful strides in the artificial gravity, she releases the Haro when she reaches the table and almost automatically reaches across, concern written all over her face-- and readable through those emotions. "A-Are you okay? What happened...?" Amuro tilts his head down when Rachel arrives, watching her progress as she comes into the room. There's a lot you can tell about someone from the way they move. Rachel's body language has changed considerably. He grunts, sitting up in the chair, sitting forward. "You look different," he says by way of greeting. "I understand there've been a lot of things happening around here." The Newtype is good at keeping a lid on his own emotions, but even through the screen it's clear that he's happy to see the young woman. Amuro waves off the concern, removing the frozen HAMBURGER from his face for a spell and revealing the nasty bruise. "It's nothing, just how Bright expresses his concern." He chuckles. "One of these days, I'm gonna deck him back." It's true-- her movements are a little more fluid and natural, she's more open and direct. Reaching to very gingerly touch the edge of the big bruise with a small frown, the white-haired girl sinks back to sit down across from the original Gundam pilot, back straight and trying to give him the best small smile that she can, even if there's still that feeling of blockage around her-- as though she's changed, but it clearly is not complete. "I hope looking different is good?" "Yeah, we've... we've had a lot of things happen. Not all of it is good, though," she says, her hands folded in her lap. Looking down, her eyes stare at her knees and the floor just beyond as though her look alone could penetrate and burn a hole in the floor. "I've been trying as hard as I can to make it through and make sure everyone else is okay..." Rachel looks back up. "Captain Quattro is teaching me how to fly the Hyaku Shiki, too. He wants to get Tanith and I up to speed on how to use it, and get the timing right for sending out the cannon..." "Different is almost always good. Change is good," Amuro replies, thinking back on a life lived entirely in flux. "If you don't change, you... I don't know, you rot. Crumble away to, to dust." He waves his free hand a little, trying to summon words. "I can, can /see/ how you're changing, like that, uh, what's it called," Amuro frowns. Beltorchika made him read that awful book. "Metal morphosis?" "Something like that. Quattro's the guy who can handle words," he finishes, slouching a little in his chair. Char was always the great orator. Amuro has always been more in the tongue-tied nerd category of speakers. And speaking of Char. A reflexive bolt of anger crosses his subconscious before he stifles it, just barely managing to avoid gritting his teeth. He /what/? To /what/?? Amuro clears his throat, then works to steady his breathing. Easy, easy. She doesn't know him. She's used to following orders. Used to being a weapon. And he's a controlling sociopath. No. Calm down. Easy. "Has he, now," Amuro manages, sounding a little strangled. "That's... that's..." he waves his hand again, though it looks a little more claw-like now. "That's, uh... certainly something." "Metamorphosis?" she asks, after Amuro mangles the word. "Well," she adds, tone uneasy, "... he... he tends to talk about the soul of a warrior whenever I get nervous or upset. I really don't know what he's talking about, outside of philosophical references from pre-NCA Earth history." Rachel's voice lowers a little, here. "It kind of weirds me out. That's the right word, right?" she asks, apparently picking up some of Tanith's vocabulary. Then, without so much as the smallest amount of segway, her emotions flop hard in the other direction, from that worried-cautious-nervous state back to the good feeling that she had moments before. There's no subtle shifts in her emotion, it literally is one moment this, one moment that. "So what did you need to talk to me about?" Rachel asks, curious. "Right," Amuro mumbles. "Metamorphosis. Like a butterfly." Or a man turning into a cockroach. Wasn't that the story? He had skimmed most of it. He sighs. "Quattro is... a violent man," Amuro begins. "He has a lot of, of hatred. A lot of, uh, anger. He's, well, he's a great warrior, amazing pilot." A pause. He breathes. "But, is that what you want, Rachel?" Puts down the hamburger, looks the girl in the eyes. "Do you want to be a violent woman? Consumed by your lust for conflict?" Leans back again. Returns the HAMBURGER to his eye. "Because if that's what you want, following Quattro is the best possible way to achieve it." "If not, though," in response to her final question, "then you and I are going to need to spend some, uh, time together." Another beat. "And, and you'll have to trust me." Another hard flop. Worry, fear, nervousness. Rachel thinks hard about the time that she spent with Quattro Bajeena. While his hand was more stern, his teaching, his methods... it seemed to resonate with her. Whether or not it's a subconscious reaction, with all of those years of training, drugging, and conditioning pushing her in the direction of being a 'very good student,' her piloting skills seem to have increased a bit-- right up to her near-victory against the simulation of Char Aznable's Zaku II combat data. She hasn't seen that terrible side to him. Yes-- she has her suspicions and worries that the blonde man really is Char, but... she /wants/ to give him some modicum of trust. Currently, Amuro trumps this with a careful selection of words, such as 'hatred,' 'violent,' 'consumed,' and 'lust for conflict.' She turns a nervous eye to the table and frowns just a little bit... then lifts her chin and looks straight on at Amuro with a small nod. "I trust you, Amuro. I always will." Rachel's hard emotional 180s are a little jarring to a Newtype of Amuro's sensitivity level, but it's nothing he hasn't encountered and dealt with before. And hey, at least she IS displaying emotions-- more than two now. That's encouraging. He mentally congratulates himself on suggesting she hang out with Judau and the others. Clearly the right choice. Now if only Quattro would fuck off. Calm down. That's not fair. He's not a bad person. Okay, he's a bad person, but he's not that bad /right now/. Right? Right. "I don't want to say that I don't trust Quattro," Amuro amends. "I do-- I trust him to watch my back in a fight, out on the battlefield. He's the best CAG you could ask for, too. I just wish he'd take his responsibilities more seriously." He does not illustrate which responsibilities he means. He didn't choose the words consciously, but that subconscious empathic link is a hard thing to avoid in even casual conversation. Things slip in, float around, get shared whether you want it or not. Perhaps he picked up on Rachel's insecurities on some level. Newtypes are as mysterious as cats. "Good," he says with a nod, at her expression of trust. "That's good. You've, uh, yuo've had a terrible thing done to you, making you a, a Cyber-Newtype." Breathe. "I... the same thing happened to me, last year. It was... the most degrading experience of my life." Thank god he can't remember much of it. "But I recovered. I grew from the experience, as a pilot, as a person, as a Newtype. And that, that's why I know I can help you overcome this." Another pause. Is he being presumptuous? "That is, uh, if you want to. I won't force you in to anything." Oh, Judau Ashta. He's taught her a lot, and somehow managed to use that overwhelming ability to be /Judau/ to ram a pry-bar into her mind and wrench some of those emotions being displayed now out into the light of day. Grabbing her by the hand and dragging her around the ship and into various Adventures. The necklace hidden under the collar of her t-shirt and what it was cut from-- a piece of the damaged armor from the One Year War-era Gelgoog being restored by the two young teenagers in their off-time. Judau teaching her the secret art of junk collection. Judau indirectly teaching her tricks to flying a Mobile Suit that ended up saving her life. Oh, Quattro Bajeena. The times that he nearly brought her to tears, both in meetings alone and with Bright Noa that resulted in very nearly being introduced to her very first Bright Slap. He spurred her on in dangerous battles, and he left her with the manual and keys to the Hyaku Shiki. In all honesty, it puts her emotions in conflict, trying to believe in him... but she cannot and will not ever ignore the warnings of her benefactor. Her voice becomes a little more quiet as her eyes shift down, away. "... I wasn't... I didn't have anything to do with that, but I remember the reports." Rachel, with few other places to look around, returns to looking at Amuro and giving a firm nod of her head. "I don't understand a lot of things still, Amuro. I ... I need help, and... Tessa, the last time we had linked minds, things were a little more under control... but it was still a bit dangerous. And Cagalli's not a Newtype or anything like that." A sheepish, small shrug. "I mean, I'm not ... I'm not saying they can't help me at all, or anything like that. It's just..." "... w-well. I want to get better, Amuro. I don't want to not understand my own emotions." Amuro Ray looked into Tessa's mind once, and it was a screaming hellish nightmare pit. He can only imagine the effect that had on Rachel. Clearly nothing bad enough to rupture her friendship with the young Colonel, though, which is good. "I know you didn't," Amuro says, voice quiet. "It was Paptimus Scirocco." His eyes grow distant as he thinks back to that time, after his foolish attempt to copy Char, to be a symbol, a leader. And look where it landed him: enslaved, humiliated, forced to fight his own friends, stripped of his identity. That was a lesson hard-learned. "I only brought it up so that you know, I'm not just, just talking out my ass here." Eyes return to the now, and he shakes his head as if to clear it. Then winces, agitating the black eye. "Hsss. Damn it, Bright," he mutters, putting the HAMBURGER back on. It's starting to melt. "They can help you, Rachel, and they have." Amuro even smiles. "They've shown you what it's like to be a person, to have friends, peers, real bonds. It's something I couldn't do for you alone. I'm, uh, not the most..." he frowns. "You know, social guy. But I am a pretty big deal where this whole Newtype thing is concerned, and that's where I can help." "Have you ever, uh, tried meditation?" There's still a look of guilt, an added aspect of it to her emotions. Even if she herself wasn't responsible for Amuro being captured and his situation, it's still... it's part of her past. She knew, if only /about/ him in a vague and generalized way. It's the sort of feeling that says, 'I want to apologize for my old comrades,' but it just wouldn't work. It wouldn't feel right, saying something like that to Amuro. She also frowns a little more at the sting of pain. Bright Noa's fists of steel cut to the bone. Rachel says 'the last time,' but it isn't the first time that she and Teletha Testarossa had shared brain space. The first time it had happened, neither of them came out of it exactly as they were before. She saw Tessa's friend hanging, eyes lifeless and put to a gentle sway. Tessa saw the Kusanagi fall and heard the cries of three hundred dying. Tessa came out of it a little more openly emotional and prone to invading personal space; hugging, holding hands. Rachel came out of it twirling pens and having new ideas for machine parts to pitch to Astonaige. She also came out of it with a small habit of curling a finger through the ends of her hair, much as she is now that she thinks about his question: "Meditation...? N...no, not... well, I was going to say 'not really,' but never." Amuro is, of course, no stranger to the unique outcomes of rubbing minds with an unusual sapience. He is, after all, carting around a piece of evil alien overlord/16 year-old girl in his soul. It's not like he can't feel Rachel's conflicting emotions over the whole Five Murasame situation, but there's nothing he can really do about it. He will probably never forgive the people who stripped him of his identity and made him a weapon; fortunately for her, she's not on that list. A brainwashed Cyber-Newtype isn't exactly high on the food chain. If the Newtype even notices the similarity between Tessa and Rachel's mannerisms, he writes it up to the two girls spending girl time with each other (he imagines this is lingerie pillow fights, like in Benny Hill, yet finds himself strangely unaroused (because he is not Quattro)). Down to the matter at hand. "Well, uh, I never really... /tried/ it when I was younger, either. But, well, after the War..." he frowns, the shakes his head. "Long after the War, really, a..." Lalah, reaching down into his dreams, whispering "friend got me started on it. And it, it helped me to, uh, /control/ the, uh, the flood of external emotions, I guess." Thinking about it for a moment-- what meditation is supposed to mean, and how it helps out-- Rachel lets her hand drift to the collar of her shirt, her hand half-closing on the fabric that covers the focal decoration point of the necklace given to her by Judau. Really, Judau is one of the very few people that can get her to focus when the cards are on the table. One of a list that could probably be counted on one hand. Rachel looks awkward, nervous. "Well, I... I don't really know how or where to start... I mean, I think I've read about it, but..." she says, trailing off in a vague and meandering way. "I can try to, though, if you think it'll help." "Well, it's not, it's not easy," Amuro admits. "It took me a while to, uh, to get the hang of it. You know, to get it... down." He frowns, looking off towards the far wall for a few moments. Thinking. It's so hard to use words. Harder than it used to be. He has Rei to thank for that, he supposes. "To, uh, begin, you have to get comfortable. Some people, uhm, the tradition is to sit, cross your legs, rest your, your hands on your knees, that kind of thing. Probably what you've seen." Amuro adopts the pose for a second as if to demonstrate, but it's hard to pull off sitting on a chair. He wobbles a little, then releases and goes back to his usual seated position. "But you don't, you don't /have/ to do it like that. You just have to be comfortable." He then closes his eyes. "But the, uhm, most important part of meditation is to have a, a, a... /clear/ mind. And that's, that's very difficult to do. Especially for, uh, for people like us." "My trick, what I do is, is I start counting out thirty seconds. But, every time I have a, a /thought/ or a /feeling/ or anything like that... I start over." Amuro smiles, opening his eyes. "It's really, really hard. But practice enough and, uh, you can get it. A clear mind. Set a, uh, a timer or something and try to stay that way for 5, 10, 15 minutes." A pause. "That's, I guess, your homework? Try to get a clear mind for, uhm, for about a minute." Though the entire process is simple, there's a seriousness in Rachel's posture that wasn't ever there before. The scarred girl shifts in her seat, picks her rear end up, and leans over the table just a little bit to catch every nuance and angle, watching the placement of Amuro's hands to watching his breathing. Is she overdoing it a little bit? Maybe. When she leans back and settles down in the seat, the white-haired girl tilts her head a little, a curled finger lifting to settle her knuckle against her lower lip. It all looks so thoughtful. "Practice it... thirty seconds... set a timer. Okay." There's a slight wince there. How is she supposed to know when her mind is clear? Without voicing the question, the young pilot shifts back to Amuro, hands landing on her lap. "What's... um. What's next...?" Amuro Ray smiles. "You'll see!" Category:Logs